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 Nov 2017
SeaChel
It feels as though




nothing




exists within me.
Even though nothing is technically something.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
I have never understood why people
fear death.

To me, death is like a simple
"good-night"
that one never wakes up from.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Why won't time just
s l o w   t h e   *******   d o w n
for once?
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
The fierce kisses that bruise my lips,
he must be punishing them
for not being
her own he's kissing.
They way if she passes by,
his eyes will linger.
"I love you,"
surely is not intended for me
when she is around
(or if she is not).
The saying,
"You never forget your first love,"
is all too true.
I see it in my own first love.
I can see his pain,
although, he tries to lock it away.
I just don't understand how...
How can he love her
after she tore his heart right out
of his chest
and ******* destroyed it so that
it could belong to no one but her?
Something I've always feared and recently noticed more so... It terrifies me
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Over and over again it happens:
Work piling up into massive
vertical structures, threatening to
topple over and smother me.
You'd think I'd have learned by now,
but I have not.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Have you ever had one of those days
where sadness takes on an edge
of beauty?
It seems like a contradiction,
an oxymoron.
Although, you can't help but see how
it shines
around the shadow of depression.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
A black hole within
my soul threatens to consume
what is left of me.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Even the stars are
not infinite; they too, will
someday fade away.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
The warmness of spring
fills my body
with pure ecstasy.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Sadness deep within
my bones seemingly will not
ever go away
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
I am the yo-yo, hooked to a piece of string.
You are the hand that pulls,
controls the whole mechanism.
As the hand pushes away,
the yo-yo distances itself;
just to be pulled back into the hand
with the slightest tug.
No matter how many times the yo-yo
spins away,
she is always found in the embrace
of the hand yet again.
And no matter how near or far
the hand is to the yo-yo
(or the yo-yo to the hand),
the two are always connected.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
I fatten them up first
by breaking their spine.
They sigh with thanks as they unfold
their tightly compressed pages.
Each dog-eared corner is a
goodnight kiss;
A place in which I bid to them,
"See you soon."
I am a surgeon to each of them as well;
a master in gluing and taping.
Because we all know a healthy book
is a worn book,
and as long as the pages
are all in order
it is craving to be read.
 Nov 2017
SeaChel
Head spinning
Vision tilting
Mind reeling
Stomache heaving

I don't recall my feet leaving the ground
or hopping onto a twisting rollercoaster.
Yet,
how else would the world be rotating
360 degrees,
back-and-forth,
upside-down,
all in the same moment?
If this was written with pen, I'd have much fun with the last several lines in the visual arrangement of them.
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